A Minor Hiccup

[Warchief Waddles]

His back to Vilka, Aten came to a halt as she justified her need to kill, painting it as necessary. Whirling on the woman Aten moved a step closer. “You call that justified force?! You burned one of them to a husk! What part of that is justified force?! Whether I break bones, or even disable them I do not aim to kill. I give them the chance to live on! You snatch away what hope they have. What hope there could be for redemption, to perhaps reevaluate their actions! Your way doesn’t work and I purposely allowed them to escape.” Stopping to take a breath his voice lowering to a harsh whisper Aten’s presence growing in the force slightly. “I’d rather fight a hundred than to kill one, it is your fear that makes you seek to kill. You fear challenge.” Scoffing Aten moved to finish the march shrugging the pack on.

Feet digging into the softened ground as they moved through the forest Aten kept his senses tuned to the environment around him. He listened to the chirps and screeches of wildlife around them, the faint trickling of a spring that wasn’t too far away. The peace broken by Vilka’s prodding once more. Always with the questions this one is.

“I plan to reimburse the Mandalorians for myself, to get what parts I need so I can leave. If anything, they want us both off their planet. They are neutral, and they have a penchant for being understanding at times. I heard tales of one who even let a Jedi live on Dubrillion during the Rebel Alliance’s attack. If you can’t afford your way off the planet you may want to contact some sith and funnel some credits. Less you plan to follow my instructions.” He’d have at least enough for the parts to his own ship and if not enough to get a shuttle off the planet where he’d return another day.

Stepping over a fallen tree Aten looked back to check on Vilka’s progress. Despite the acts of the Sith, her horrid attitude and personality that was as pleasant as torture she was partially Aten’s responsibility. He had to ensure that she also escaped the planet. That’s what the Jedi were supposed to do.

[member="Vilka Pharro"]

 

[Vilka Pharro]

"Doesn't work?" She gasped, barely able to contain herself. "The mauling I just took because of you, and it's my way that's broken?" Vilka stopped for a moment; they had bickered enough. "I don't argue with you out spite, and I don't fear challenge. I just can't suffer fools, and I prefer not be covered in my own blood! Your self-righteousness is unwarranted. I'd rather kill one, and spare ninety-nine. Path of least resistance, Aten. I'm not here for excesses." A sideways smile, lost to the whirling woodland. One more body left, it would seem. Though an arm might do.

She couldn't be sure about the credits- she'd have to explain why she needed them, and without a good lie that would preclude revealing her own failure. Better to ride out the Jedi's kindness, she felt. Get off-world, lure him out to the stars, and then... then she'd decide what kindness was worth. "I suppose I'm with you for now. Couldn't deprive you of the company."

They trudged amidst sky and earth, winding path between tree-top and root, all the while, watching. It was an itch now, each fallen leaf, blade of grass upon the wind. The Nightsisters would return, now or then. One hand touched a stone, her mind slipping away into the deep and eternal fog of Precognition. There, the fibres of reality might reveal themselves, just for a moment; yes. The future was a blackened noose, tightening fast. Hatred and fury, soon oncoming. Whose hate... she dared not to think. What the Sith would see in her now, ruminating on murder itself! This was a treason of its own. When refusing to kill was the greater sin. She snorted at the thought, at it all; how the world had warped itself about them, in all of a day.

"It's a long road, Aten." Her tone was awkward. "Anything to say of yourself? The Jedi, that arm? Which... road led you here, so to speak?"

Had best know your opponent... at least as long as they were your opponent, anyway.

He was, wasn't he?

[member="Aten Ramses"]

 

[Warchief Waddles]

“You say suffer fools but this fool may be your only way off the planet and is the only reason you weren’t left to die in the forest. So may want to make a few alterations to your statement… Vilka.” His boots were dirtied by the muck in which they stepped, the humidity of the planet causing Aten to warm in his armor. Sweat beaded down the jedi’s forehead as he continued on. “Say whatever you want, make any justifications for your killings of today and however many of the past. That does not make it true. You killed those who could’ve been spared. That is the last I will say on that for we obviously won’t see eye to eye on such an issue.”

Lacking skills in many aspects of the force Aten simply trudged onwards. His abilities of sense, premonitions and such worse than a youngling at the temple. His skill in mentalism non-existent. All he had was telekinesis. His one avenue that set Aten apart from Romi Jade’s other apprentices. “Oh the agony of being separated from you! You’ve just been an absolute joy to have around when you’re not being condescending or discussing the failure of the Jedi without looking upon your own.” If sarcasm could be sensed through the force Aten was absolutely overflowing with it in these moments.

Taking note of the tone in Vilka’s voice Aten was slightly put off by it. The harsh tone from before had dropped, was this a time of vulnerability or a ploy to ease the Jedi into complacency so she could strike? “What do you wish for me to say? Give you my entire life story so you can ridicule it as you attempted with my master?”

Right hand stretching out grabbing at empty air, forming into a fist, Aten looked to it. The cybernetic limb that went all the way to his shoulder connecting at his ribs and portions of his back to stabilize it. “I lost it due to two bounty hunters. Fett and Valentine. Finest in the galaxy, even when they came I didn’t kill them though I could’ve with a simple thought. A twist of their helmets or their armor in certain places would’ve put them out of commission in an instant. But I didn’t. What about you? What happened to you?”

[member="Vilka Pharro"]

 

[Vilka Pharro]

The jungle, the wounds, the useless rage. It was bearing heavier on her shoulders by the minute, a dead lump of long-cooled passion that now only served to way her down in its weariness. She needed a spark, to set her fury alight once more. Some Sith. Her grip on the Dark Side was still young, tenuous, but even still; this inability to act moved even beyond such excuses. At the very least her own self doubt served to sustain the darkness, to propel her away from the Light, from the meek. Those like Aten.

But only one of them was half-lame. And it hadn't been him, had it?

"Ridicule it? Why, it's as if we're not even having the same conversation. I've been nothing but sensitive to yourself." She spoke distantly. "Your crystal friend... Master. Do me the credit of acknowledging it is quite odd. That wasn't wholly my belligerence. I-" Her eyes ran up and down his harm. She winced, almost comically. "-Didn't particularly want to ask about the arm just yet. Was saving that one for later, quite frankly. At least I know not to arm wrestle you." Vilka couldn't be sure if this was a raw nerve or not- did she even want it to be? She thought about apologising, but held back all the same. "I would ask if you regretted it- not going further, that is; but I don't think I have to, do I?"

"How strange is it, that principles worth living for so often leave their owners dead?"

They were coming to the crest of a hill now, bald peak surrounded by woodland; the crimson morning of Dathomir was giving way to day, it seemed. "My past? It's quite trite, if I do say so myself. Reads like a bad fiction of its own. Born a Princess, took too many slaves, made a slave of my own- you see the rest." With some unplacable disgust she looked at her own hands, cracked, pale, skeletal things. Corruption knew no bounds.

[member="Aten Ramses"]